For some comic relief in these dark times, here’s a poem by my father about an introverted candle who chooses (contra Jesus’s instructions) to hide his light under a bushel. What is more enticing, after all, than curling up with a good book.
If COVID-19 is prompting you to avoid society and if you’re frustrated that sports have vanished from the air waves, look to reading. Amazing worlds await your discovery.
The Retiring Candle
By Scott Bates
A Candle
Burned under
A bushel
He did not let his light shine forth
Among Men
He did not even let his light shine forth
Among Potatoes
The bushel was empty
(Being upside down)
And somewhat stuffy besides
They all called down to him
To come up on deck
And get some air
They wanted him to be the life of the party
To shine
Illuminate eternal verities
Set the world on fire
But no
He politely declined
He didn’t want to set the world on fire
All he wanted to do was stay down in the hold
And smoke
And curl up with a good book
Which he did
He smoked and curled up with
The poems of Yevtushenko
The Theory of the Leisure Class
Perrault the Duc de la Rochefoucauld
Erewhon and Through the Looking Glass
Also assorted Elizabethan sonnets
When he had finished
He put himself out
And went to sleep
